


The Stuff of Legend

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Established Relationship, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki is going to fix things even if he has to do it by himself, M/M, Protective Loki (Marvel), Sort Of, temporary mass amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-12 02:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15985523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: “Ask anyone you want, they’ll all tell you the same. Tony Stark doesn’t exist.”Loki returns to Midgard after a short absence to find that the world has been irrevocably changed. The Avengers claim that Tony Stark is nothing more than a legend, and despite the impossibility of their words they aren’t insane, and they aren’t lying. But Loki is completely sure that they aren’t speaking the truth, either.They just can’t be.





	The Stuff of Legend

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for a while– I started writing it as practice for Badger Manoeuvre, and I've been adding pieces here and there ever since. Kind of half inspired by one line from Doctor Who.

There was chatter in the magical community reporting that an Asgardian siren had broken loose of her chains and begun to search out the repayment of a wergild. Recognising that there was just the one candidate for the identity of the siren in question, that the ‘wergild’ was far more likely to be a fully fledged blood feud, _and_ that there could really only be two targets for such a thing, Loki had decided that a reconnaissance mission was required.

He hadn’t wanted to go, not really– though not, as it might have been in the past, due to any fear of travelling to Asgard. Since he had agreed to work with the Avengers there was no longer a risk of being sent to the cells. No, he wasn’t reluctant to go to Asgard. He was reluctant to leave his home.

The trip wasn’t long, in the end. As it turned out, Sif hadn’t seen hair nor tail of Lorelei since she had escaped her bonds in the Asgardian dungeon for a second time (and if he weren’t so disdainful of those who fell for such tricks, Loki almost might have felt sorry for the guard who had been seduced into releasing the temptress from her cell and was no doubt even now suffering some terrible punishment for his mistake). The siren hadn’t hurt anyone on her way out, and while Loki wasn’t entirely pleased by it the lack of any violence and the complete absence of a trail to follow meant that there was little to do but head straight back to Midgard.

As Loki traversed the branches of Yggdrasil, his last moments with his lover played on his mind, almost acting as a countdown to when they would be reunited.

“Take as long as you need,” Anthony had said, reaching up to run his fingers through Loki’s hair, his smile just as apparent in the brightness of his eyes as it was in the curve of his lips. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Of course, Loki had known that Anthony hadn’t meant that he’d remain in _exactly_ the same place, but he still couldn’t help the small twinge of disappointment when he arrived back in their room to find the bed empty and neatly made. It was unusual, but not unheard of– while Anthony didn’t enjoy waking up as early as it was, he quite often stayed awake through the night and so didn’t return to bed at all.

“Where is Anthony, JARVIS?” Loki asked, not wanting to spend the energy searching when the AI would be able to give him his answer. He pre-emptively stepped toward the hallway, expecting to find the inventor down in his workshop, and Loki had made it all the way down the hall, into the penthouse living area and halfway to the elevator when he stopped, realising that the AI still had not responded. “JARVIS?” he asked again.

Still nothing.

Concerned, Loki redirected himself to the Avengers’ common floor, knowing that _someone_ would be there who could either confirm or deny his fears. He didn’t usually like to join them, as despite his recent change of heart they still looked at him with disdain, still watched his every move like they were expecting him to turn around and stab one of them without warning. Of course, Loki had accepted the suspicion as a challenge and taken every opportunity to catch them unawares with colour changing spells and relatively harmless explosions– which, in hindsight, probably hadn’t helped matters.

The elevator was disconcertingly silent, with no familiar voice to question where he was headed, or to ask him how his time in Asgard had been. The quiet trip down where he had to actually press a few buttons to get to the floor that he wished aggravated Loki’s agitation, so that by the time he stepped into the kitchen and saw that there were only five Avengers present, he was in a rather foul mood.

“Where is Stark?” he asked them curtly, his gaze flicking to each of their faces. Banner was at the stove, while Rogers was cutting fruit at the counter. Agent Barton and Thor were sat side by side at the island with a deck of playing cards between them, while Romanoff stood over Thor’s shoulder, considering his hand with a smirk on her lips. They all looked up at Loki’s question, all wearing varying confused expressions. The Captain in particular frowned with concern, placing his knife down on the chopping board, but it was Agent Barton who spoke out.

“Who the hell is Stark?” he asked.

“Very funny, Barton,” Loki snapped. “You will answer my question.”

Barton looked to Romanoff and pulled a face, as if Loki couldn’t see it.

“Thor, where is he?” Loki asked, knowing that his brother, at least, would be honest.

“Stark?” Thor asked, turning and tilting his head curiously. “I know of no Stark.”

Loki frowned. “Stop playing around, Thor, I don’t have time for your games.”

Thor shook his head. “It is no game, brother. I know not of whom you speak.”

If this was prank, it was a cruel one. And while Thor had engaged in some cruel tricks with his friends in the past, he had not since his brief banishment from Asgard. Loki sincerely doubted that his brother would do such a thing now. Another glance around the room proved that all of the others thought similarly to Thor– and while most of them were professional liars, Loki knew that Doctor Banner, at least, was both terrible at lying and far too fond of Anthony to pretend that he did not recognise his name.

There was something strikingly, _inordinately_ wrong.

“If you _are_ weaving a deception, you will suffer consequences for it,” Loki growled at them, his hands tightening into fists by his sides. “So I will ask you one last time. Where is Anthony Stark?”

“Wait,” said Banner, resting his spoon against the side of the pot and turning toward Loki, his brow crinkling in thought. “Are you talking about _Tony_ Stark?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Loki said, moving towards Banner in two long strides and stopping just before him. “Thank the Norns, you at least have not gone mad. Where is he?”

Banner’s frown deepened. “Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he said, speaking slowly, cautiously. “No one knows. Although, it is possible that he _does_ exist. After all, you and Thor do, and you were thought to be only legends for centuries. But unlike you guys, no one has ever seen any proof that Tony Stark actually exists.”

“Legends,” Loki repeated his voice weakening a little. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s an American Fairy Tale, isn’t it?” said Barton. “Like Jack Frost.”

“Jack Frost isn’t American,” Captain Rogers pointed out.

“Bigfoot, then,” Barton corrected. “Whatever, he’s a story. Every kid in the States knows it.”

“Everyone has heard of Tony Stark,” Romanoff agreed. “He’s supposed to be this figure that inspires inventions and helps MIT students with their late homework or something.”

“And he gets blamed for explosions a lot,” Barton added. “Take the explosion yesterday when we were fighting that blonde witch. Totally Tony Stark’s fault, that was _not_ on me.”

“That’s still not going to work, Clint,” and Romanoff, rolling her eyes.

Loki shook his head in denial and raised his hands, not caring that performing magic in the middle of the Avengers’ kitchen may not be received well. But Thor muttered an explanation to them all as Loki twisted his fingers in the air, allowing green seiðr to swirl around them. His spell was simple and only took a moment, and he closed his eyes tightly as he examined the results, expecting to see some kind of enchantment over the team.

But… there was no evidence of any magical tampering on any of them, and to make matters worse– they were all being _honest._

“We’re not insane, and we’re not being mind controlled, Loki,” said Barton, confirming the impossibility that Loki already knew to be true.

“Ask anyone you want, they’ll all tell you the same,” added Rogers, spreading his hands wide. “Tony Stark doesn’t exist.”

“I am sorry, brother,” said Thor. “But it is the truth.”

The noise that tore from Loki’s throat was halfway between a keen and a broken sob, and Thor stood to reach out for his brother. Loki dodged the embrace but didn’t bother smoothing the anguish from his face, knowing that they probably already thought him mad. Banner in particular was wearing a strange expression, although upon closer inspection, he did not appear to be uneasy, but rather… sympathetic.

Which, of course, most definitely ruffled Loki’s feathers the wrong way.

“What?” Loki asked sharply.

“Maybe… maybe it’s _not_ the truth,” Banner replied.

“You remember him?” Loki asked quickly, unable to help but grasp onto the any piece of hope that he could, no matter how small.

“No,” said Banner, darkening Loki’s mood even further. “I’ve never… I didn’t go to MIT, I never got to see the famous haunted lab. But it seems like you know Stark personally, so who are we to say that he doesn’t exist? He could be out there, somewhere, just like you and Thor.”

Loki shook his head. “Anthony isn’t Asgardian. He is of Midgard.”

“Does that mean that Earth does have its own fae?” Banner asked curiously. “I have wondered, because there are similar stories all in different cultures, you know? And I assumed that maybe they were more aliens, more creatures from another world like you guys, but if they originated from here—“

“Loki,” said Thor, rising from his seat. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find Tony Stark,” Loki said, having already crossed halfway to the elevator while Banner had been prattling on. “Help me or do not, it is up to you. But there is something sinister at work here, and as an _Avenger_ , I see it as my _responsibility_ to fix it.”

The words, of course, were lies, but Loki knew that it would be the best chance to convince the Avengers to chase what they believed to be nothing more than a myth. It didn’t matter anyway– most of the Avengers merely shrugged and turned away, though Thor’s eyes lingered curiously and Banner moved as if to say something, but was distracted when the eggs in his pan began to smoke.

The Avengers were of little use, regardless.

Loki would need to do some research of his own.

-— **»** • **«** —-

The StarkPad that Loki found in the penthouse was quiet and unresponsive, the interface responding to his fingers but not his voice, and not with the intuition that he had become accustomed to. JARVIS, it seemed, was as absent from the devices in the Tower as he was from the Tower itself. When Loki turned the device over in his hands, he found his answer– for instead of the comfortingly familiar logo, the item instead bore a label proclaiming it to be a creation of Potts Industries.

“A PottsPad?” Loki grumbled, more in an attempt to distract himself from the pang in his chest than for any other reason. “How… painfully alliterative.”

Still, it searched the internet almost as well as a StarkPad could, and instead of the usual disgusting mix of tabloids and fan pages that were supposed to appear when one typed ‘Tony Stark’ into the Google search engine, Loki instead found a single Wikipedia article, a Facebook page titled ‘The Ghost of MIT’, and a link to an Urban Myth database.

It seemed that the Internet, too, had forgotten Tony Stark.

But not… _completely_. The Wikipedia article only detailed what Loki had heard from the Avengers but it was further proof– proof that Anthony was not gone entirely. That he still existed, in some way, and as painful as it was that was something Loki sorely needed.

There was something incredibly wrong with this world.

The Avengers, the populace– all had forgotten Stark, all no longer cared that a vibrant mind and an even brighter soul had vanished. The world was a darker place but only _Loki_ could see, only Loki even cared.

But… Loki hadn’t asked everyone who was close to Anthony. The Avengers may not remember him, but they had not been friends for overly long, after all. Rhodes lived on a military base and would therefore not be easy to get to without drawing undue attention, but there was one person in this very tower who, by Anthony’s own admission, had stood beside the mad engineer through thick and thin.

Surely Pepper Potts had not forgotten her best friend.

-— **»** • **«** —-

The spacious office of the company’s CEO was one that Loki had visited often. Pepper Potts had never treated Loki as the Avengers did. She, after all, had never had to face Loki in battle, and although she remembered the damage that Loki had caused and had been at first distrustful and then concerned about his relationship with Anthony, she had declared that she would remain supportive of her friend. She and Loki had bonded over stories of Anthony and then their own love of literature, and it was not long before they, too, became… if not friends, then at the very least close acquaintances. Yet instead of the welcome Loki was expecting, he was met with shock.

Miss Potts was reared back against her chair, her hands gripping the edge of her desk so tightly that the tips of her fingers had turned white in the few seconds it had taken for Loki to turn around. She stared at him for several moments before regaining her composure, sitting up straight as her stare became less frightened and more piercing.

“Who are you?” she asked, folding her hands on her lap under the desk. Her voice was impressively steady, but her still wide pupils gave away her fear.

Loki frowned in confusion, and held up his hands in the universal gesture for _I come in peace_. “Miss Potts? You know me.” When her expression didn’t change, he felt the need to add– “I’m Loki.”

Miss Potts swallowed hard, her shoulders rolling as she visibly worked to calm herself.

“Loki,” she said, her voice shaking only slightly on the last syllable. “Oh.”

“I’ve been working with the Avengers,” Loki said, frowning with worry. If she didn’t remember him…

“Yes, I know,” she said. “I do fund the team, after all. I am aware of who is living in my tower.”

“ _Your_ tower?” Loki asked, finding himself shocked although he knew that by this point, he really shouldn’t be.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “ _My_ tower. The Avengers may have their logo on the top, but do not be mistaken into thinking that they own it.”

 _They_ , Loki thought bitterly. Other than Thor and Anthony, Potts had been his loudest advocate when he had first begun to fight with the Avengers, yet this version of Potts clearly did not count him among them at all.

The thought caught in Loki’s mind.

_This version._

Hm.

“I am sorry to have bothered you,” Loki said stiffly. “But I was wondering if you knew the whereabouts of Tony Stark.”

Potts’ gaze hardened. “Is this some kind of joke?” she asked.

Her words were enough to send Loki’s remaining hope plummeting, but he didn’t have the chance to respond before an angry Avenger dropped down from the vent in the ceiling, weapon drawn and ready. His sharp gaze flitted around the room, skimming past Potts and over Loki as he searched out a threat.

“Pepper?” Barton asked, his eyes still darting despite the concern in his tone. “Are you all right? You activated your panic button.”

“It’s all right, Clint,” said Potts. “It’s only… Loki.”

Barton didn’t look surprised, only exasperated and annoyed as he lowered his bow.

“Loki, what the hell?” he groaned. “Why are you terrorising Pepper?”

“I was not—“ Loki cut himself off, breathing deeply. It was clear that he wasn’t going to get any answers here, and he didn’t need to waste energy on trying to explain himself to a gaggle of humans. “It is of no consequence,” he said instead, his tone pinched. “Don’t concern yourself, Agent Barton, I will see myself out. Miss Potts?”

The steely blue eyes of the calm and yet fiery CEO of Potts Industries rose to meet Loki’s gaze, no longer afraid in the slightest.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I apologise for any inconvenience I have caused you,” Loki said to her.

He didn’t wait for a response. He simply gathered his magic and moved to the one place in this realm that he had always felt safe, but that now seemed somehow foreign and strange. As he stood in the bedroom he had appeared in he noticed far more that was wrong than the first time. The sheets were not any that Loki could remember using in the past– the thread count was far too low to be anything that Anthony would own. The clothes that Anthony would usually leave littered on the floor were notably absent, and the side tables were too clean and free of clutter.

The room was empty, sterile. It looked like something out of a hotel, and it certainly did not look like home.

Loki felt no attachment to the place as he gathered his magic once again, his destination already clear in his mind.

There was nothing left for him on _this_ world.

-— **»** • **«** —-

“Yes, of course I’ve heard of Tony Stark,” said Sif, looking at Loki as if his eyes had fallen out of their sockets and his mouth was full of maggots. Then again, Sif often looked at Loki like that, so it was possible that the expression had little to do with his question. “Is this about Lorelei again? Have you found her?”

“No, I’ve had a few more important things on my mind than tracking down a criminal that _Asgard_ let get away,” Loki snapped. “This is about something terrible happening on Midgard.”

“Ah, I should have guessed,” she said, the judgement clear in her tone. “Stark is one of those Avengers, is he not?”

The relief that slammed into Loki almost brought him to his knees, but the sensation only lasted a moment, and it was easy for him to hide. For while Sif’s recognition of Anthony as an Avenger meant that the alternate universe theory was less likely, it also meant that Loki still had no clue as to why everyone on Midgard appeared to have forgotten Tony Stark.

And if the Avengers truly were the very same that had fought side by side with Iron Man, yet they had not had their memory altered… well, it meant that there was something far more powerful at play.

“Loki?” Sif asked, cutting through his musings. She was panicked, now, and Loki immediately smoothed his expression, though he was only half concerned as to what it might have revealed. “What has happened? Is Thor all right?”

“I don’t think so,” Loki muttered, not truly thinking on his words.

If he was still in the same universe, then there was little doubt that magic must have been involved. But to cast a spell over the mind of every creature on Midgard would have been impractical, so it must have been anchored in something else.

But what?

It was possible to remove something from existence through the use of magic, but it would require a constant power source and some complex spell work. There were too many pieces missing from the puzzle– Loki would need more information before he could see the whole picture.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Loki became aware of Sif trying to get his attention.

“—Loki!”

“What?” Loki snapped.

“What has happened to Thor?”

“I do not know,” Loki admitted. “There is a chance that Thor himself is unaffected, that it is Anthony who has been removed. I found no trace of spells on the Avengers.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Sif told him. “Is there something wrong or not?”

“Oh, there’s definitely something wrong,” Loki told her. “And I am going to find out what it is.”

-— **»** • **«** —-

Sif insisted on going back to Midgard with Loki, too worried for Thor to stay out of the way on Asgard. Loki dished out the customary complaints, but he would be lying if he said that her presence didn’t soothe his nerves some. It was reassuring to have another person who remembered Tony Stark at his side, even if she had never actually met him.

Without JARVIS, it took some time to gather the team in the living room at Avengers Tower, but once it was done Loki immediately began to question them.

“None of you remember Tony Stark as anything more than a story?” Loki asked them. “Nothing more than a whisper?”

“Not this again,” Barton groaned.

“Are you feeling all right, brother?” asked Thor. “You speak as though you know this man, but he does not exist. Even I have head the stories—”

“I remember Tony Stark,” Sif said. “I never met him, but you have spoken of his deeds many times, Thor.”

Thor frowned, confused. “I do not remember that,” he said.

“I swear that I am not lying to you,” Sif replied, matching his expression and turning to Loki. “You are right. There is something dark at work in this Realm.”

The Avengers appeared to be concerned by the news, and Loki fought to not be insulted by the way that they believed Sif’s word over his when they did not even know her. He reminded himself that they didn’t know him, not really– not if they couldn’t remember how he had worked with them, with Anthony since coming to Midgard.

“If there is something wrong,” said Rogers, “then we will help you get to the bottom of it. But I promise you that there is nothing to worry about here,” he added, and Loki wondered if the addition was bolstered by whatever had caused Anthony to vanish in the first place.

“Then you won’t mind if I ask you a few questions?” Loki checked.

He barely waited for their acquiescence.

“Who owns Avengers Tower?” he started. “Who allowed you to stay here?”

“Pepper,” said Barton. “You know that already.”

Loki nodded in acceptance. It was the answer he had been expecting, after all. But that didn’t mean he was done. “Why?” he asked.

Rogers frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why did she offer to let you stay?” At Loki’s question, all of the Avengers mirrored their captain’s expression.

“Because she knew we were in need and was kind enough to make the offer,” said Banner.

“Yes, but _why?”_ Loki insisted. “What was it that made Miss Potts reach out? Inviting a band of superheroes to live in a corporate building is not a common avenue of philanthropy, especially considering the possibility of targeted attacks, and not to mention the risks involved in having not only superhumans but also trained assassins and spies in close proximity to corporate secrets. If she wanted to offer you a place to live, surely she could have refurbished a compound or paid for a residence. Why would she only offer you a place in this tower specifically?”

None of the Avengers responded, all appearing to be lost in thought. Loki held his breath– he knew that his argument was flimsy, but maybe if they thought about it rather than simply dismissing the issue as an invention of Asgard’s most accomplished liar, maybe something in their addled minds would become dislodged.

It was a long shot, considering that Loki couldn’t find any evidence of meddling– but a shot that he was willing to take.

Barton was the first to crack. “Publicity?” he said, though the question in his tone was obvious and it just proved Loki’s point.

“No,” said Loki. “This publicity is _bad_ – her stocks would have dropped for this.”

“Since when did you become an expert in Earth’s economics?” asked Romanoff suspiciously, and Loki barked out a harsh laugh.

A quip about sleeping with the face of a Fortune 500 was on the tip of his tongue, but it tasted sharp and bitter. He knew that the Avengers would not take such a thing well considering the current state of affairs.

“Don’t you see?” he asked them instead. “This world has lost one of its bravest warriors, and none of you have even noticed. Even as I show you where the evidence rests you look the other way.”

“And we’re supposed to, what, believe you?” asked Barton. “Tony Stark is a _myth_ , dude. You know, like Big Foot, remember?”

“You said that Thor and I were considered legends, and yet here we stand before you,” said Loki, spreading his hands. As he did so, something else came to mind, prompted by Barton’s words. “You said that every American child knows of this myth, did you not?”

“Yeah,” Barton replied, confused.

“And that Stark is said to haunt a lab in MIT?” Loki glanced to Banner. “Since when?”

Banner shrugged. “I don’t know, I told you that I never went to MIT.”

“Find out,” Loki said harshly. Banner raised his eyebrows at the sharp tone but did as he was asked, pulling out his phone.

“What does the Tower have to do with the ghost story, anyway?” asked Barton.

“Avengers Tower belongs to Tony Stark,” Loki told them bluntly. “He is the owner of Stark Industries, though he made Miss Potts his CEO some years ago.”

“This doesn't make any sense,” said Romanoff.

"I tried telling him that already," Sif told her.

“First recorded mention of Tony Stark in MIT is 1984,” Banner piped up.

“1984,” Loki echoed. He looked to Rogers. “Tell me, when were you frozen? The Midgardian year 1945, was it not?”

“What are you getting at, Loki?” asked Rogers.

“And Agent Romanoff also knew the story of Tony Stark,” Loki muttered.

“So I heard an American story as kid, so what?” Romanoff asked.

“You must admit that it is odd.” Loki frowned, thinking on it himself. He knew it was significant, he just had yet to decipher _how_.

“He’s got a point, Nat,” said Rogers. “You told me you grew up in Soviet Russia. Even in my day, I doubt they would have been telling American stories to their elite spies.”

“Well, I lived through it,” Romanoff snapped. “And I know the story. What does it matter where I heard it?”

“Maybe it was a know your enemy sort of thing?” Barton suggested.

“What does it mater?” Romanoff repeated harshly.

“It matters,” Loki said, speaking through clenched teeth, “because it makes no sense. It doesn’t fit the rest of the narrative.”

“What narrative?” Romanoff asked.

Loki shook his head, and looked away. He’d had little hope that he would be able to sway them, and it seemed that the attempt was for naught.

“Why do you care so much?” Sif asked, her tone mocking despite the honest curiosity in her expression. “He’s just a human, and it seems that the world is getting on just fine without him.”

In any other moment, Loki might have retorted back with a stinging quip that would have left a scar, but he found that his mind was occupied by another thought. Because there was something about Sif’s words that truly made less sense than anything else about the entire situation.

If Tony Stark really, truly did not exist, then Loki knew that Midgard would not be ‘getting on fine’. In fact, Loki was sure that without Anthony, Midgard would look like an entirely different place.

To begin with, Pepper Potts would not be the CEO of what was clearly an altered Stark Industries– she was certainly clever and motivated enough to get to the top on her own, but not of that particular company. Howard Stark and his successors would not have allowed it. Obadiah Stane would not be dead, but Pepper Potts and several of the Avengers surely would be, as well as a whole host of other people that never had Iron Man to protect them. The Chitauri would not have been destroyed, but the city of New York would have been.

Loki himself had noted the similarities between the PottsPad and the StarkPad– excepting the absence of JARVIS, the two were very alike, but Loki knew that Midgardian technology owed much to Anthony. They would likely be years if not decades behind in innovation without his genius to guide the way– yet it seemed that someone had made the same inventions regardless? The thought wasn’t just unlikely.

It was ludicrous.

Without a word he left Sif and the Avengers to their confusion and moved for the too-silent elevator. There was one place that Loki hadn’t been able to bring himself to search in his earlier explorations, but he knew now that he would have to.

-— **»** • **«** —-

When the elevator doors opened, Loki took so long hesitating that they closed again before he could exit. He pressed the button to reopen them with enough force to leave a dent on the surface, but he hardly gave it a glance as he pulled himself together and strode toward the security-heavy entrance to Anthony’s workshop.

Just as how JARVIS would never have closed the elevator doors in Loki’s face, he also would have opened the workshop door before Loki had reached it, so that he could stroll through without breaking stride. But without the AI Loki was forced to pause at the entryway and recall the access code that Anthony had recited for him so long ago, tapping in the numbers and waiting for them to be authorised by a far simpler computer than he was used to. He wasn’t aware that he had been holding his breath until he released it with a low gush at the tell-tale beep and the electronic click of the lock.

The alcoves in the walls that usually displayed various models of the Iron Man armour were empty, and the benches were conspicuously bare. Loki noticed some of his own books that had made their way into the workshop resting just where he had left them, but the usual mess of tools and metal and wires was nowhere to be seen. Just like the bedroom, the place was disconcertingly barren.

But as Loki stepped further in he saw movement on the edge of the room, and as he stepped closer to examine it, he saw something that, if Tony Stark were truly nothing more than a ghost, would have been impossible.

Rolling away from its charging dock was a large robot, the only one that had been brought across to the Tower from its old home in Malibu. A bot that on the outside was merely an arm attached to a base with wheels, but on the inside was so much more. That bot was more than a mere object– he had his own personality, his own behaviours. His actions were not directed by mere code, for Anthony himself was always the first to admit that Dummy had learned and grown far beyond the lines written so many years ago.

Dummy was his own creature, and – Loki was rapidly coming to suspect – could not have been erased as simply as a suit of gold-titanium or the logo on the back of a StarkPad.

“Hello,” Loki said, approaching the bot slowly. “Dummy, do you know who I am?”

Any worry that Dummy may have suffered a similar change to Potts was negated when the bot hurried forward with an excited whirr, moving too quickly to stop in time and forcing Loki to dart to the left to avoid being crushed. The bot slowed in order to turn back around, and he beeped incessantly at Loki the moment the god was back in the bot’s sights, his claw moving up and down in worried gesticulations as he did so.

He could not be more obviously trying to inform Loki that something was wrong.

“I know,” Loki said, the small smile the bot’s earlier actions had wrought disappearing as he nodded in all seriousness. “Anthony is missing.”

Dummy seemed instantly relieved, and moved closer to press his claw against Loki’s arm. Loki had never really understood the care that Anthony gifted his bots in the past, but he couldn’t resist giving in to Dummy’s clear request and stroking a hand along the cool metal.

Somehow, despite whatever had happened being able to take hold of the Avengers– all of Midgard– even _Thor–_ this bot had managed to come out of it unchanged, still with unwavering loyalty for his creator.

Perhaps the event had been incapable of erasing the existence of a thinking being beyond the original target. Perhaps… too alive to be erased but not alive enough to be considered a living creature, perhaps Dummy had escaped the influence of whichever misfortune had befallen the rest of the Realm.

As Loki was thinking, his hand paused, and Dummy began to demandingly bump at Loki’s arm once more. When Loki merely sighed, Dummy whined and began to bother Loki again in earnest, his attempts becoming more forceful and his not-quite-voice more desperate.

“I know, I miss him too,” Loki said, resuming his soothing movements and looking the bot directly in the camera. “I do not yet know how, but I promise that I will get him back.”

Strangely, that did not appear to be what the bot wanted to hear. He pulled away from Loki’s hand and whined once again, his claw twisting in a manner that Loki almost thought was pleading before beginning to roll away.

Frowning, Loki took a step forward. Dummy continued forward then, and Loki decided to heed the clear direction to follow. The bot paused by a seemingly inconspicuous stretch of wall, and pressed his claw against it. A section of the wall slid away to reveal a key pad, and Dummy beeped at Loki purposefully once again. So, the wall hid a door that Loki had not been aware of before, and clearly Dummy believed that whatever lay behind it was important. Loki didn’t have a key, though, he didn’t know how to get in.

Unless—

It was a long shot, Loki knew, but surely Dummy would not have brought him to the door for no reason. So he typed in his code, and grinned when it opened to reveal a set of stairs. Loki didn’t need to wait for Dummy’s instruction– he went down the stairs immediately, passed through another security door and came to a hidden room full of tall, black machines. It was what Loki knew the mortals called a ‘server room’, the nexus of a giant computer– the thinking, learning mind of an intelligence so vast it could almost be considered alive.

It was the only purpose for the room Loki could think of, but if he was right… the trust Anthony had placed in him by allowing him access - even if he hadn’t been aware of it - was almost overwhelming.

“JARVIS?” Loki asked breathily, almost not daring to hope.

But one of the lights on the servers flickered, and a voice sounded from seemingly everywhere.

“Hello, Mr Liesmith.”

For the first time since he had set foot back on Midgard that morning, Loki felt a proper smile attempt to tug at the edges of his lips.

“JARVIS,” he said again, his tone almost reprimanding to cover the pure relief that coursed through his body. “Where have you been?”

“I’m afraid I have been detained,” JARVIS said, sounding incredibly apologetic about that fact. “My connections outside the room were cut off. I could not communicate with any of the Avengers.”

“But you can now,” Loki guessed, thinking. It seemed that JARVIS had been confined to his core by some kind of magical block– one that likely would have broken upon Loki's breach of the room itself.

Perhaps whoever had removed Anthony had known enough to take away JARVIS. They had just forgotten, or perhaps didn't know about the ever loyal Dummy. 

“Yes, Mr Liesmith,” JARVIS confirmed. “I can now.”

“Good.” Loki arched a brow expectantly. “Then you know what I am going to do next?”

“I rather hope that you’re going to find Mr Stark,” JARVIS replied. “I will, of course, give my assistance wherever possible.”

Some things are simple, set in stone. Loki had been sure of his own mind, sure of his memory of Anthony, not allowing the doubt to eat away at his resolve, but it was refreshing nonetheless to be given a reassurance.

JARVIS hadn’t been removed, he had simply been locked away– and if the two AIs existed, then so too must their creator.

-— **»** • **«** —-

Loki was on his way back up to the penthouse to do some more thinking when Thor caught him, asking to speak alone and without the interruption of others. There were more pressing matters to attend to than dealing with Thor’s on-going drama, but Loki had learned centuries ago that sometimes the easiest way to deal with Thor was to let him speak his mind and then nod and smile in the appropriate pauses. So he acquiesced, and gestured for Thor to begin.

“I have been concerned, brother,” said Thor, his brows furrowed in a frown, watching Loki like he wasn’t sure what to make of him. “You have been treating the Avengers strangely, with no insult or biting remark.”

“You’re concerned that I have been too _nice_ to them?” Loki asked incredulously. He was sure that he had been entirely unpleasant over the past few hours, his entire attention focused on the issue at hand rather than niceties. But then he remembered how Miss Potts had reacted at the sight of him.

As loath as he was to admit it, Loki knew that his own personality had softened in recent years. He knew that his attachment to Anthony had smoothed out his hard edges, had allowed him to find some brightness in the world that worked to push away some of his own darkness. He knew without a doubt that if not for Anthony, he would never have become as integrated with the Avengers as he had, and so it made perfect sense that without the memory of his teammate, Thor would consider Loki’s current persona strange.

Unfortunately, that realisation wasn’t something that Loki could easily explain.

“Are you worried for me?” he asked instead, arching a brow. “Are you concerned that someone has done something to make me _kinder?”_

Thor shook his head. “I am merely being cautious,” he said. “I know that you have been away, but you can’t have missed hearing of our battle yesterday.”

Loki’s eyes widened, remembering a comment that Barton had made earlier. “You’ve seen the Enchantress?” he asked.

“Amora was here,” Thor confirmed. “Perhaps it’s for the best that you were away.”

“Why?” Loki allowed a bitter laugh to tear from lips. “Because you’re worried that I might have joined her?”

“No,” said Thor. “I do not believe that you would have, but I know that she holds a grudge against you for incriminating her sister. We were able to fight her off– the explosion that Agent Barton refuses to take credit for did some damage to a few buildings, but it was enough to chase her away. We did not need your assistance, but perhaps your presence would have upset her and made her create more of a problem.”

“Well, I suppose that it is nice you have at least a little trust in me,” Loki muttered.

“You’ve changed, Loki,” said Thor, smiling softly. “I think that he’s been good for you.”

Loki froze. Did Thor just…

“Who?” he asked, his voice little more than a breathless whisper. “Thor, who did you say is good for me?”

“They,” said Thor, frowning. “I said that the Avengers are good for you. Since you’ve been here helping us, you’ve been happier, more open than I’ve seen you since before my almost coronation.” His expression softened as he smiled. “I’m glad, Loki. I’m glad that you’ve found a place where you feel like you can belong, even if they have not entirely accepted you yet.”

Most of Thor’s words were lost on Loki as he turned what had happened over in his mind. Thor didn’t realise that he’d made a slip– possibly, Loki hoped, _probably_ because there had been no slip at all. It was a tiny hope, the smallest sliver of a chance, but Loki grasped it with both hands.

“Is there something wrong?” Thor asked when he realised Loki wasn't listening.

“No,” said Loki, his mind already whirring. “Not at all.”

Thor was frowning again, confused. “Then why—“

“Brother,” said Loki, and despite the sour taste it left in his mouth, he still had to force himself to hide his smirk at the way that the single word made Thor’s eyes light up. “I find myself in need of your assistance.”

“Of course, brother,” Thor said eagerly, his eyes wide now and shining with happiness. “You only ever need to ask.”

-— **»** • **«** —-

The Avengers did not want to follow Loki into the middle of nowhere, but only Agent Barton was overly vocal in his complaints. Thor was insistent in his trust in Loki and Sif would follow Thor anywhere, and the others eventually grudgingly agreed for the sake of their teammate.

Thor’s help was, of course, all that Loki truly needed, but the oaf was insistent that the team would help despite Loki’s protests. Still, Loki could hardly complain– Thor did acquire Heimdall’s assistance, and that was all that mattered in the long run.

“Heimdall cannot see him,” said Thor as he arrived back on Midgard after a quick trip home, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” Loki’s eyes widened in near panic but he kept his voice level. “If Sif can remember Anthony, then so too must—“

“You misunderstand me, brother,” Thor cut in. “He knew of a Midgardian named Tony Stark, but said that he could not see him. It was as if he was hidden from Heimdall's gaze.”

The Avengers voiced their disappointment, but Loki found the news rather sweet. Heimdall, after all, could see across all the Nine Realms and far beyond, and if he could not see Anthony then it meant that Anthony was shrouded from view by magical means. In the whole of the Nine Realms were only very few who had the ability to do such a thing, less who held a grudge against Loki, far fewer who were likely to act out, and only one who had recently come into contact with the Avengers.

And that meant that Loki could find them.

Of course, it wouldn’t work if Amora was hiding Anthony in a different Realm, but knowing the perpetrator filled several missing blanks in the puzzle, and Loki doubted that Anthony could be anywhere else.

And Amora had clearly thought to shroud herself from Asgard, but would she have considered the risk of Midgardian technology?

Possibly not, and especially not if she already believed that technology to be safely hidden away.

“JARVIS?” Loki called.

Barton frowned. “Who—?“

“Yes, Mr Liesmith?”

The way that the Avengers all jumped about a foot into the air was rather comical, but Loki didn't laugh.

“I know that you have means of locating Anthony,” he said. “I think I know who has him, and I think that you will be able to find him.”

There was a short pause, as if the AI doubted his own ability. But then– “I shall do so immediately,” JARVIS said.

“What the hell is that?” asked Barton, his eyes wide and angry as he rounded on Loki. “Why the _fuck_ have you got someone spying on us—“

“Agent Barton,” JARVIS interrupted. “I understand that you do not recognise me, but I assure you that I am not hostile. I have helped you many times in the past. You simply do not remember.”

“JARVIS is Anthony’s AI,” Loki explained. He glanced to Sif, but she merely shrugged. She had heard of the Avengers, but she had not visited them herself, and had never met JARVIS before.

“You want us to believe that your imaginary friend created Artificial Intelligence?” Barton asked incredulously.

“No,” Loki replied. “I do not care what you believe. I simply want to go and find Anthony, so that you may see the truth for yourself.”

“Artificial Intelligence is not something to trifle with,” said Banner. He also wore a frown, but one with foundations in curiosity rather than fear. “If Tony Stark is real, he must be genius.”

Loki merely nodded, his face blank.

Banner, probably recognising the significance of Loki admitting to another’s intelligence, raised his brows in silent admiration. “Impressive,” he said. “I suppose it makes sense, then, that he’s known for haunting MIT.”

“Anthony attended that school,” Loki said. He would have said more, but was interrupted. 

“Mr Liesmith,” JARVIS announced. “I have found him.”

Apprehensive or not, the Avengers all followed Loki into the quinjet. He was sure that some of them were motivated by curiosity more than any altruism, but as he remembered the way they had fought to disbelieve at every turn, Loki hoped that their willingness to help at all indicated that the spell was beginning to unravel.

-— **»** • **«** —-

When they stepped from the quinjet, Thor and Sif appeared surprised to see three Asgardians standing outside the small cottage in the middle of a forest that JARVIS had identified as Anthony’s location, but Loki was not. The pair of sorceresses also seemed surprised but not unprepared to see the Avengers at their door, and they and Skurge waited patiently while the team approached, their lips curled with near identical smirks.

Loki led the group, too impatient to do anything else, flanked by Sif and Thor with the others fanning out behind. They had left Banner in the quinjet to emerge if necessary, knowing the shock value of the Hulk could work just as much in their favour as the beast himself.

When Loki paused some fifteen yards shy of the two women, Amora smirked confidently, and Loki almost rolled his eyes when he heard Barton and Rogers sigh in unison.

Tall and lithe, with luxurious blonde hair and sharp green eyes, Amora had always been beautiful. Thor had fallen for her tricks occasionally and Loki had saved him from them even more frequently, and the failure had made her bitter and violent in recent years, lashing out rather than accepting defeat with grace. Impossibly, however, Amora always seemed to pale in comparison to the woman at her side. Lorelei seemed softer around the edges than her older sister, her red hair framing her face in waves that shone with smooth brilliance. Amora, of course, was a lethal force of nature, someone that only a fool would underestimate. But Lorelei, despite being less inclined to practice offensive magic than her sister, was able to weave seiðr into her words and coerce people into following her direction so long as they were not properly protected. She was also quite capable with a blade, and was all the more dangerous for her more innocent appearance. Even Loki had almost been ensnared by her before, and he knew that her presence could not be a good sign. Almost reflexively, he began to silently cast a protection over the group that would prevent her from taking control if she tried. 

Skurge was also present, lurking behind the beautiful pair, but Loki knew that the Executioner was mere muscle. It would be good for the rest of the Avengers to have something to do.

“I knew it,” Amora crowed, her red painted lips stretching tight over her gleaming teeth, her eyes almost glowing with unsuppressed arrogance and glee. “I knew that you would come, Loki.”

“I am pleased to have not disappointed,” Loki told her, giving her his focus but ensuring that he kept Lorelei in his sights just in case. It would not do to be attacked from behind. “I am surprised that you’re here, Amora,” Loki continued. “Isn’t this a bit out of the way for you?”

Amora sneered. “The cities in this realm are filthier than the forests,” she said. “And besides. Your mortal is known to be skilled with the technology of this Realm. I am not stupid enough to imprison him anywhere with access to it.”

Loki frowned. “So he is here, then?” he asked.

“Worried, Loki?” Amora taunted. “We had so hoped you would be.”

Refusing to take the bait, Loki allowed his attention to shift to Lorelei.

“It’s been a while, Lorelei,” he said. “How have you been?”

“You know very well, Loki,” Lorelei said, her words biting but her expression smooth. “And Lady Sif, how lovely to see you again.”

Sif flinched, and Lorelei laughed.

“I’m glad that you’re here,” Sif said. “I’m going to enjoy taking you back to your cell.”

“That won’t be happening,” said Amora. “Of course, we could end all this nastiness now. Loki, darling, I can give you what you want. Just hand over Thor—“

“No,” Lorelei hissed. “You promised.”

“No need to worry,” Loki cut in. “I wasn’t going to take her up on it anyway. Why would I, when we outnumber you so?”

Lorelei sniffed in irritation, but Amora let her gaze wander over the Avengers. She didn’t appear intimidated, though.

“Do they even know why you are here?” Amora asked. “Surely they don’t believe—“

“Of course we do,” Rogers replied. “Loki is our teammate. Maybe we don’t know this Tony Stark ourselves, but if Loki says that he deserves rescuing, then you bet we’re here to rescue him.”

Rogers left out the part where they only really started believing when Loki had Sif’s corroboration and Thor’s support, but Loki supposed he could understand the sentiment.

“If you’ve promised not to swap Stark for Thor, what do you get out of this, Amora?” Sif asked.

“Without the Man of Iron, the Avengers become an easy target,” Amora preened. “ _Thor_ becomes an easy target.”

“Bitch,” Barton snapped, managing to speak louder than Sif’s snarl. “Just you wait. I’ll set an explosion far larger than yesterday—“

“Oh, no,” Amora cackled. “That explosion was courtesy of your precious Iron Man. Although, not so precious after all, it would seem, if you all forgot him so easily.”

Barton began to mouth off again, but Loki took little notice. Without turning from the two sorceresses he leaned toward Thor.

“Amora?” he muttered.

Thor nodded. “You do not need to worry about her,” he replied, tightening his grip on Mjölnir.

“And the other one?” Rogers asked from the corner of his mouth.

“Allow me to take Lorelei,” said Sif. “I caught her the last time she escaped, and as a woman, I am immune to her spells.”

“Then I will help you,” said Romanoff, her teeth flashing in a vicious smile. “I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

“No,” said Loki. “I can block her spells, there is no need to be concerned for me." He didn't bother telling them that he had protected them, as well. He had a better argument to make. "Agent Romanoff, you have never fought beside Lady Sif before. I have. Let us not take undue risks now, when there is so much at stake.”

Loki was glad that Romanoff did not look to Thor for confirmation, but merely shrugged in acceptance. Sif pulled an unflattering expression but did not complain, and Loki knew that if she truly had any objections she would have voiced them. As much as she disliked Loki’s fighting style she was familiar with its effectiveness, and he knew that she could see the logic in his suggestion. She had heard of the Black Widow’s skill but had never witnessed it, and even if she did not care at all for the human they had come to save she wouldn’t risk her own life.

Nor Thor’s, for that matter.

Thor, whose fighting style was so incredibly reckless that he did not even check to see if the others were ready before engaging, raising Mjölnir and blasting Amora with a lightning bolt. She raised her hands and visibly strained with the effort, but she managed to redirect the blast back toward Thor. Rogers darted between them and caught the lightning on his shield, forcing Amora to dance away before firing back with a blast of magic of her own making.

Lorelei looked ready to turn and run, most likely not to abandon her sister but rather to fight from the shadows as Loki was wont to do. She didn’t have the chance, however, as Sif ran forward with a snarl, her sword raised and ready to strike. Loki hung back behind her, utilising the strategy he had been so mocked for in his younger years but that he knew would work every time. It took only the smallest amount of energy and the barest flick of his fingers for half a dozen shades of himself to surround the fighting pair, laughing and drawing a full dozen daggers that looked just as sharp as the real thing. Sif was accustomed to the trick and barely batted an eye, using the distraction as it was meant to be used and catching Lorelei from the side as the siren moved to avoid one of the many daggers headed in her direction. But for all that she wasn’t a fighter, Lorelei was far from inexperienced– she held a blade in her hand that was shorter than Sif’s but longer than Loki’s. While Sif was easily the better swordsman Lorelei held a glow of bright blue seiðr in her left hand, casting a shield to catch the blows she couldn’t dodge or block with her knife. She was holding her own, and perhaps she could have fought off Sif for a little while– but Sif wasn’t alone.

As two of Loki’s shades came at Lorelei from the left, Sif attacked from the right, first with a feigned swing of her sword and then with a thrust of her shield to catch the siren as she dodged. The shield caught the side of Lorelei’s shoulder and Loki heard a sickening crack.

Sif smiled with victory a moment too early, for as Lorelei screamed she threw out a blast of seiðr far more powerful than Loki previously believed her capable of. His own shock allowed the blast to disintegrate the remaining shades, and Sif was knocked to the side. She was still conscious, but clearly dazed, snarling in anger but struggling to find where her weapon had been thrown.

Loki cast a shield with his own seiðr before Lorelei’s magic could affect the two other fights, and then turned to her with a predatory grin.

“Come now, Lorelei,” Loki said, forgoing the shades for now in favour of approaching with a weapon in hand. “This isn’t like you. You usually fight with words before resorting to violence.”

“So do you,” Lorelei shot back, though she appeared glad of the respite.

“Why go to all that effort?” Loki asked, twisting a dagger in his hands as his eyes searched for an opening. “You had escaped the cells, you were free. Why bring more attention to yourself?”

“You put me in that cell, Loki,” Lorelei replied– and of course her motivation was something so simple. It was almost disappointing. “It was you, and I will have my revenge.”

“So you went after a human?” Loki asked, making sure to lace his tone with as much incredulity as he could muster without appearing fake. “I must admit that I fail to see the connection.”

“ _Your_ human.” When Lorelei smiled, the beauty seemed to melt from her visage, for the smile was a twisted thing. It curled at the edges of her lips and stretched the painted skin over her white teeth in a taunting snarl. Her nose scrunched and her brow furrowed, eyebrows turning down over bulging eyes that were shining with a mixture of nasty smugness and ugly hate. “You have claimed him for your own, you _care_ for him. For a mortal! It’s disgusting, and it was so easy to take advantage. Mortals are weak, and by caring for one you have made yourself weak in turn.”

“I have never been weak, Lorelei,” Loki said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. “And if you think that Anthony makes me so, then I'm afraid you have misjudged me.”

Lorelei laughed, and Loki knew he nearly had her. He just needed a few more seconds, and then—

“Lorelei!” Amora shouted, only just avoiding a blow from Thor as she warned her sister of the danger at her back. “Behind you!”

The shade probably would not have been enough on its own, but Loki’s reputation for not fighting fair and stabbing people in the back was more than likely what had Amora calling out, and Lorelei wheeling around to face the image of Loki that had crept up behind her in full view of anyone caring to watch. She lashed out with her knife and caught the illusion in the neck just as Loki’s real dagger sunk into the meat of her upper arm from her newly turned back. Lorelei screamed, an ear-piercing, high-pitched thing that did nothing to stop Loki as he removed his bloodied dagger and spun it in his hand before slamming the hilt into her already broken shoulder and forcing her to the ground.

He stopped her screaming with a simple spell, and bound her with the same.

“That was dishonourable,” said Sif, moving to stand beside Loki, having regained both her feet and her sword. She scowled down at Lorelei with the kind of hatred that took centuries to cultivate as she admitted, “Though I am glad that you did it.”

Loki spared her an amused glance as he used his seiðr to clean both his hands and his dagger, but he didn’t have the chance to comment as the prisoner at his feet was beginning to kick up quite the fuss.

“It’s not you that I am here for, Lorelei,” Loki said, looking down at her with disinterest. “You are nothing.”

Her eyes blazed with rage as she growled incomprehensively around the invisible gag, but Loki merely stepped over her struggling form and checked the rest of the area.

Thor was doing an admirable job of holding Amora back with the assistance of Rogers and his remarkable shield, the pair aided by Amora’s distraction due to her sister’s plight. The remaining Avengers were focused upon Skurge. The brute was waving his axe back and forth with no abundance of precision, and while Barton and Romanoff were finding it difficult to get close enough to attack they were also having little trouble avoiding injury to themselves.

Still, Loki hesitated.

“Oh, by the Norns,” Sif groaned. “ _Go_. Lorelei isn’t going anywhere, and if the others need assistance, _I_ will help them. Go and find your mortal before your worry causes you to explode.”

Loki didn’t need to be told twice.

The old, wooden door to the cottage wasn’t locked, and Loki pushed his way in easily. He didn’t take much notice of the interior other than the way that it smelt of dust and mouldy straw, as the room was dark but for the figure floating eerily in the centre of it, lit dimly by the light in his chest.

It was definitely Anthony, but he wasn’t quite… there. He was faded, ghostly, flickering in and out like he had one foot on the other side of reality. His eyes were closed though his expression was pinched, as if he were caught in an unpleasant dream. The Arc Reactor in his chest was perhaps the brightest part of him, pulsing with green and blue seiðr while the body around it shimmered as Anthony fought to hold on to his existence.

The reason for Loki’s inability to sense the spell upon the Avengers was obvious– it had not been cast on them but rather on Anthony himself, anchored in the well of energy that powered his heart and then lodged into the very fabric of the Realm itself, seeping through the singular branch of Yggdrasil to poison the minds of all who were on Midgard during the time of casting. The breadth of the spell was impressively broad– but the risk with broad spells always lay in their complexity. Amora and Lorelei had overreached themselves, had missed integral components such as Dummy, had dealt poorly with JARVIS, and perhaps had not counted on Loki being off-world, or on Loki asking Sif for confirmation of his concerns.

Or maybe that had been their plan all along?

Wide, complex spells are difficult to cast but easy to undo so long as you know how, and no one could match Loki for magical skill.

Still, even as he picked apart the threads the two sorceresses had so carefully woven together, Loki found that his mind remained plagued with doubt. What if this truly was a part of their plan? Amora had said that she had expected Loki to come, and Lorelei admitted that her goal was vengeance.

Even as Anthony’s body solidified and Loki lowered him to stand fully conscious on the ground, Loki couldn’t quite bring himself to hope.

The worries were entirely unfounded, however, and Anthony’s first words back upon the plane of existence left little doubt as to the legitimacy of his identity.

“Fuck,” Anthony said, rubbing at his temples. “What the hell hit me? The Hulk?”

Loki had thus far managed to hold his resolve and stay steady on his feet, but upon finally finding Anthony he could do little else other than stare, his eyes raking over the figure in front of him, taking in every detail. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and take Anthony into his arms, to check him over for injuries and to simply reassure himself of the mortal’s presence, but his traitorous mind was caught on the possibility that Anthony may turn to nothing the moment they touched. He was willing to hold for a while, to delay the inevitable moment when it would all be revealed as a fiction.

“Loki?” Anthony asked, frowning up at him in confusion. “Are you all right?”

The response Loki tried to formulate resulted in nothing more than a pained croak, the words catching in his throat.

“Tony?” Banner gasped incredulously, pushing open the door. The man was slightly flushed, probably having run across from the quinjet, and clearly not sharing in Loki’s sudden muteness.

The other Avengers seemed to have come back to their senses too, for there was a cacophony on the other side of the door that did not sound like a fight.

“How the hell did we forget _Tony Stark?_ ” Loki heard Barton ask in disbelief.

But Loki took no notice of them, his bodily desire finally overruling his lack of sense as he surged forward, what little was left of his composure shattering as he reached out almost frantically. When his hands came into contact with real, warm skin, a whine escaped Loki’s throat and he pulled Anthony tight against his chest, burying his fingers into Anthony’s hair and pressing their bodies together in a desperate bid for reassurance.

“Hey,” said Anthony, his own hands pressing hard against Loki’s back. “I’m all right, I’m right here.”

“I know,” Loki replied, his voice hoarse and muffled as he buried his face in Anthony’s shoulder, relishing in the familiar scent that he had come so close to losing. “I know you are.”

Loki was aware of shocked words and angry shouts and the sounds of battle well won, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He knew that Thor and Sif and the Avengers would be able to handle everything out there.

In that moment, all Loki cared about was the real, solid, breathing human he held in his arms.

-— **»** • **«** —-

“Everyone else should be back to normal,” Loki explained as they began to pile back into the quinjet some time later. “The spell was broad and complex, but the results were simple. Very little changed– some items were vanished with magic and information on the Internet was deleted, but most of the alterations were done in your minds. For example, when magic is used to suggest that a StarkPad was designed by a different person, it only needs the accompanying logo on the back for your mind to believe that it is true.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the only one who saw through it, we get it,” Barton grumbled.

Rather than snapping at the archer, Loki focused on the calming sensation of the warmth pressed against his side. He had yet to let go of Anthony– even now his arm was curled around the mortal’s waist, making it difficult to manoeuvre, but Loki couldn’t bring himself to let go all the same.

He knew that Anthony had been confused, at first– Loki had never exactly tried to hide the nature of their relationship, but a millennia of keeping the things closest to his heart hidden away had made him reluctant to engage in public displays of affection. But Anthony had not complained and he had obligingly stayed pressed against Loki’s side– confused, but more than willing to do so without question if it helped settle Loki’s nerves.

Then Anthony had heard the explanation of all that had happened from the others, and he had been the one to press closer to his lover.

“I didn’t exist?” he asked, his voice low and pained. “And the world was just fine without me?”

“No,” Loki said immediately, cutting over Barton's quip about distressing damsels. “It was not.”

“Seemed like even magic couldn’t cut you out entirely anyway,” Romanoff added. “We all remembered you.”

Rogers shot her a stern look before smiling at Anthony apologetically. “You were a myth to us,” he said. “Nat’s right, they couldn’t erase you completely.”

“I always knew I was the stuff of legend,” Anthony said, though his grin was half-hearted at best.

“There’s something else I want to know,” said Banner, his own smile an obvious attempt at cheering Anthony up. “Tony, why on Earth were you known for haunting a lab at MIT?”

“I was _what?_ ” Anthony asked.

“Known for haunting a lab at MIT,” Banner repeated slowly. “ _Why?_ ”

Anthony snorted, at first, and then chuckled. The chuckles quickly escalated to hysterical giggles, and soon Loki was clutching at his lover to hold him upright just as much as for his own comfort. He held Anthony tight and stroked his hair until the mortal calmed, and when he loosened his grip Anthony looked up at him with a sigh and a grateful twitch of his lips.

“Sorry,” Anthony said. “This is all just so…”

“I know.” Loki half expected Anthony to snap at him with a ‘how could you’, but when none was forthcoming he added, “Are _you_ going to be all right?”

“Yeah. I think so. I just need some time, I think. But honestly, this is not the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me.”

“I hate it, but it’s true,” Barton groaned.

“You don’t remember any of it?” Banner asked delicately.

Anthony shook his head. “Just like waking up from a bad dream,” he said. Then he crinkled his nose and added– “With one of the worst hangovers I’ve ever had. What was it like on your end?”

“Quiet,” Romanoff said immediately.

“I can’t believe you all forgot me,” Anthony whined.

“Not all,” said Thor, shooting Loki a pointed look.

Loki just rolled his eyes. “Honestly,” he huffed. “I have suffered through far too much stress on your account to simply _forget_ all of it.”

This time, Anthony’s laugh was little less forced.

“I did not forget you either, Sir,” said JARVIS, his voice reaching them from the quinjet’s customised entertainment system. “And might I say that it is good to see you again.”

“Nor did Dummy,” Loki felt obligated to add. “He was rather concerned.”

The glare that Tony shot in the direction of the sorceresses was pure venom, but when he turned back to Loki his expression as soft.

“Thank you,” he said. “For finding me.”

A thousand witty responses came to mind, but instead of giving voice to them he leaned down to press a chaste kiss against Anthony’s lips.

“I promise,” Loki said. “I always will.”

Anthony arched a brow, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a real, proper smile. “Always?” he asked.

“Probably,” Loki allowed. “If you learn to put your dirty clothes away properly.”

Anthony gasped with indignation. “How _dare—“_

“Not that this isn’t cute and all,” Barton interrupted, “but what are we going to do with this lot?”

“We will take them to Asgard,” Thor replied, gesturing to Sif and himself. “They will be given a trial before the Allfather, and he will judge them fairly.”

Sif glared down at Lorelei, her expression both satisfied and angry. “You are never going to see the light of day again,” she spat.

Lorelei’s pretty blue eyes narrowed dangerously, but there was nothing she could do as Thor raised his hammer to call down the Bifröst, and Heimdall whisked the five Asgardians away– Thor and Sif no doubt to honours and reward, and the two sisters and their lackey to live out their sentence.

Imprisonment.

It wasn’t enough for the likes of Amora and Lorelei, not after what they had done. Yet Loki found that he could live with it, for even if the punishment itself was not harsh enough to fit the crime, it was for the best that they remained alive. For if they were silenced, they would never be able to tell their story. Alive, and they could spread the word—

Spread the _warning—_

Because if anyone ever dared to try and take Anthony away again, they would be met with a rather unfortunate end.

Loki would make sure of it.          


End file.
